


Beautiful Child

by rocketsandraccoons



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:46:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketsandraccoons/pseuds/rocketsandraccoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's my fault.</p><p>The words repeated themselves in her head over and over, and over again. Reminding her that she was truly to blame. Reminding her that everything would have been just fine if she had just stayed away from Joffrey; like Arya, Robb, her father and hells, even Jon and Theon had told her to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Child

_It's my fault._

The words repeated themselves in her head over and over, and _over_ again. Reminding her that she was truly to blame. Reminding her that everything would have been just fine if she had just stayed away from Joffrey; like Arya, Robb, her father and _hells_ , even Jon and _Theon_ her to.

“ _He's bad news Sansa_.” Jon had whispered quietly one night after she had argued with Arya about how he was the perfect prince charming, and that he _loved_ her.

When _Theon_ agreed with him, she should have listened. Of all the people in the world, if Theon says someone is bad news, then it really is bad. But no, Sansa Stark just _had_ to know best. She told them that they did not know Joffrey like she did. Told them that he was kind, caring and far better than any man she could ever meet in the north.

Maybe she should have listened to Rickon when he told her not to go south to stay with the _bad man_. It was the last opportunity she had to listen to her family.

Jon was headed north to the Wall. Bran was recovering from his fall, and would likely never walk again – so could not travel south. Robb was to inherit Winterfell, and so remained home with Theon, Rickon and their mother. Arya was headed south with her and father; but the glare etched onto her face told Sansa that it was not going to be pleasant tearing Arya away from their home.

Stood there, in front of all of Kings Landing, she wished she could see her sister. Catch a glimpse of her to know that she was alright. Not a single text or call had been answered. The power on her emergency phone had died three days ago – the phone the Lannisters had not found, one her father had always told her to hide and use in cases of emergencies. One she had dedicated it's usage to getting a hold of Arya; and failed. Three phone calls to Robb, and Rickon had answered on the last try saying that their brother had called their fathers bannermen and was in a council meeting.

She had spoken to her two younger brothers. Bran far more quiet than she remembered as he spoke about the condition of his legs, and how he will never become a knight. Her heart shattered multiple times that night. Of course, she had apologised repeatedly and told them to tell Robb how sorry she was, should her phone die before he could get back in touch with her. Rickon told her that if she was not home soon, he would ride south on Shaggydogs back and rescue her himself.

Robb phoned later that night, and after the words ' _I'm sorry bu-_ ' left her mouth, her phone died.

Lady luck, she presumed, was not on her side.

Yet when her father was marched up onto the dias, she could swear she caught sight of a small girl in torn jeans and a grey cami top with dark hair blowing in the breeze of the shade stood on the base of a statue. Before she could meet her fathers eyes, she turned to look for the girl once more, desperate to see her sisters face at least one last time.

 _Perhaps Arya could not stand the sight of you, traitor_. A voice that sounded far too like Jofrey's, hiss in her mind.

Then she was consumed by her father. Her eyes focused on him, and him alone. Robb was headed south to collect them. Robb would save them both from Kings Landing.

 _Robb will save us._ She thought to herself, yet the sinking feeling in her chest made the words feel weak.

She could remember the first time she met Joffrey. Mother had taken the family on a holiday to the south, while father had attended to party details for mothers name day. Back then, Joffrey had seemed like the most wonderful boy in the world. Perfect smiles and smooth words; asking if he could see her again.

' _Such a beauty should not be hidden away in the north._ '

And she had been sold.

It was naïve of her to have thought like that. To have truly believed that the south could be a good place. All northerners had ever said while she grew up, was that Starks do not belong in the south. They were right, she came to realise, so painfully right.

_And it is all my fault._

It was her fault her father had been taken prisoner. It was her fault that Arya went missing. It was all her fault that Robb had to travel south and leave Bran, Rickon and mother alone in Winterfell.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she heard, for the first time in her entire life, a lie slide past her fathers teeth. She knew it in her heart that it was a lie. Knew it right down to her bones and her blood, and had she not realised her mistake before, she did then. Joffrey was not Roberts son; her father believed that with his whole being and had been trying to spare her and the kingdom a lifetime of suffering.

Now he lied, and for what? To protect the daughter who put him in such a situation in the first place. To protect the daughter who went behind his back.

Why?

She did not deserve him throwing aside his honour. She did not deserve her fathers lies and protection. She doubted she even deserved his love.

 _Arya will never forgive me. Father will never forgive me. No one will ever forgive me_.

“Ser Ilyn, kill him.” Joffrey made the comment sound so casual, that for a moment, Sansa had not realised what was happening.

But then the terrifying, silent executioner was stood before her father, gun aimed at his head and her world started to fade. All she could see was her father, her heart beat racing so loudly that it rang in her ears and she could feel it in her throat and wrists.

“No!” The word ripped past her lips, as tears dripped down her cheeks. Part of her thought she saw her father flinch ever so slightly. “You promised!”

And then the gunshot echoed throughout the air, and the cawing of birds as they took off was silent. Because blood dripped down her fathers forehead as his body slumped to the side; head colliding with the dias.

No air was getting into her lungs and she could swear she felt her heart rip itself apart as her legs went weak. Her world got smaller as all she could see was her father.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you. I'm sorry._

And her world went black.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I chose the title based off what song I was listening to at the time.
> 
> I may or may not continue this. I have some idea's for a continuation into a modern world, but I'll see what happens. This is here I suppose for the joy of a one-shot, and for me to add to if/when the inspiration hits.


End file.
